


Curious

by SiriuslySherlocked



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Curiosity, First Time, Gay, Gay Sex, M/M, Masturbation, One Shot, Smut, Top John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 16:52:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18014690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiriuslySherlocked/pseuds/SiriuslySherlocked
Summary: Sherlock walks in on John having some fun with himself and he begins to wonder what it might feel like. John can't resist showing him just how good it can be.





	Curious

**Author's Note:**

> My second Sherlock piece and my first Sherlock smut piece. I had to write smut for these two, they're undoubtedly one of the hottest ships out there and you know they'd have the absolute hottest sex---okay sorry. Enjoy!

John was having a good time.

A  _very_ good time. Arguably one of the best he'd ever had. (Alone, at least.)

Breathing heavily, his hand quickly jerked at his own length over and over, his head thrown back against the pillows and his legs twitching up under the blankets. He felt the muscles in his abdomen begin to clench up in warning, and he grit his teeth as his hand moved even faster. And then the door burst open. "S-Sherlock!" John jumped, his face turning red as he quickly stilled his hand as best he could. "Haven't you ever heard of _knocking_?"

"Oh don't mind me, I simply need to check my laptop for something," Sherlock said, striding over to the desk in the room and roaming through it to find his laptop. "Feel free to continue, I won't acknowledge it."

John glared at him. "I'm not  _continuing_ with you in here."

"It's natural human urges, John, nothing to be ashamed of," Sherlock said absently, pulling drawers open and finding nothing. "Damnit," he mumbled, diving under the bed to look.

"Look, how long are you planning to be in here?" John said.

"However long it takes me to find my laptop. Or yours, whichever comes first."

John rolled his eyes. "And you're certain you need it _now_?"

"Yes. Like I said, feel free to continue."

John sighed. However embarrassed he was, it was tempting. He could feel himself throbbing with need under the blankets, and it shouldn't take much longer anyway... Slowly, his hand began working again, stroking at a steady pace and getting him warmed up again. John moaned deeply, quickly forgetting Sherlock was even there, and his hand involuntarily began moving faster. He was close again, and his eyes were nearly shut. He gave a small gasp and his eyes closed completely as he came with a moan. Panting slightly, he kept his eyes closed, enjoying the pleasant after feeling.

"I certainly hope you're putting those sheets in the laundry today."

"Sherlock!" John said irritably, his eyes still closed. "Find the damn laptop and get out." He finally opened his eyes to see Sherlock staring at him in an odd way. "What do you want?"

"...Nothing," Sherlock said slowly, and turned to leave. He paused, and turned around again. "John. What does it feel like?"

"What does what feel like?"

"Masturbation. Sex. Whatever other people do."

"Er..." John said, unsure how on earth to respond to that. "Wait, you've never masturbated before?"

"No," Sherlock said. "I never had the interest."

"So... why now?"

"It came to mind, as one would expect from hearing their flatmate masturbate."

John blushed again. "Well, if you want to know what it feels like, go do it yourself."

"I don't... know how."

John gave him a look. "You don't know how."

"Are you willing to explain the process to me?" Sherlock said, entirely serious.

" _No_ ," John said. "Get your mother to give you the sex talk, because I'm not doing it."

Sherlock stared at him for a moment longer, and then got up and sat beside him on the bed.

"What are you doing?" John said, scooting away from him. "I... I need to wash the sheets, like you said."

"I want to know what it's like. How good does it feel?" Sherlock said, looking into his eyes.

John looked back at him, thoroughly alarmed. "What are you doing?" he repeated, his voice softer. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I've never kissed anyone either," Sherlock murmered, and his eyes flickered down to John's lips.

John felt his heart rate increase, his eyes darting from one side of Sherlock's face to the other. "You're being really weird. It's scaring me." Sherlock was still staring at him, his lips parted slightly. All John could hear was his own increased breath. And then they were kissing, softly at first, but it deepened as Sherlock cupped John's cheeks in his hands. John couldn't even think about how strange this was, or how it had even happened, or what would happen next, or _why on earth he liked it so much_. He couldn't think about any of that. He could only feel, he could feel his hands wrap around Sherlock's neck, Sherlock's tongue flicking at his lips, and then he yelped as he felt his lip being bitten. They pulled apart, panting and staring at each other in shock.

"Sorry," Sherlock said finally. He grinned, which made John grin too. "I've truly been missing out."

"Oh, it gets better than that," John said, a ghost of a smirk on his face.

"Would you show me?" Sherlock said breathlessly.

"Maybe," John said. He grinned this time, and so did Sherlock, and they began laughing. They both fell back against the bed, beside each other. When their laughter died down and all that was left was the uncanny grins on their faces, John spoke again, staring up at the ceiling. "No one's ever kissed me like that before. I mean I've kissed people before, er, women, but surprisingly no one's ever  _bitten_ me before."

"Sorry again," Sherlock said, his grin widening.

"No, it... I didn't mind it. I just wasn't expecting it is all."

"Mm."

"So you've really never had any relations with anyone, ever?"

"I told you, women aren't my area. Specifically,  _people_  aren't my area. Except... except you," Sherlock said softly. "You were... my first friend."

John smiled. "Mhm. I can see why, you're bloody impossible."

Sherlock chuckled. "I know."

John rolled over toward Sherlock, onto his side. "So if I'm the only one in your _area_ and I'm the only one able to put up with you, what does that mean?"

"It isn't all up to me to decide the answer to that," Sherlock said, looking up at him.

John smiled softly. "I think I want to kiss you again."

"I wouldn't stop you if you did."

John leaned in and connected their lips again. He took control this time, moving on top of Sherlock to reach him better and deepening the kiss. Sherlock pulled him down against his chest, and John moved his fingers to Sherlock's curly hair. "It gets better," he whispered, beginning to unbutton Sherlock's shirt. "Do mine too." Sherlock obeyed him silently, feeling his way through the buttons as they kissed more roughly. John shrugged his shirt off and practically tore Sherlock's off, going right back to kissing him. He quickly pulled away from Sherlock's mouth to trail his lips down his chin, across his cheek, near his ear. He could hear Sherlock's breath hitch softly. He kissed down to Sherlock's neck, nibbling at his collarbone and soothing the love bites with his tongue. Sherlock gasped, his neck arching. "John..."

"Still gets better," John smiled, sucking at his chest next, and pressing his body down. He could feel Sherlock hardening below him.

Sherlock moaned. "J-John..." he repeated weakly, his eyes half open and watching John.

" _Still_ gets better," John smirked, unbuttoning Sherlock's pants and yanking them down before getting rid of his own. He was able to grind against him more easily now, and Sherlock's back arched and thrashed uncontrollably. "Oh, Sherlock," John murmered, trailing his tongue down Sherlock's navel, following the thin trail of hair leading to and disappearing underneath the hem of his boxers. "We've barely started."

Sherlock whimpered quite uncharacteristically as John inched his boxers down, his hand brushing over Sherlock's erect length. Sherlock didn't quite know what he wanted, but he wanted _something_. He wasn't sure what he wanted or how to ask for it, all he knew was that John looked so incredibly _sexy_ on top of him like this, smirking at every sound he made. "John," he gasped, his chest heaving as he watched John slide his boxers slowly down his legs. "John, I... I want..."

John looked up. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

Sherlock swallowed. "Be gentle," he whispered, sounding more vulnerable than he ever had remembered sounding in his life.

John nodded softly, and then paused. "...You don't happen to have any lube around here, do you?"

"Oh yes, Mrs. Hudson keeps it in that drawer for me. Bought it when you moved in, I think."

John blushed and rolled his eyes, getting up and finding the bottle. "I swear, that woman. Well, maybe now she'll be happy we're finally using it." He knelt back in the bed, spreading Sherlock's legs apart gently. "I'm going to use fingers first. That'll prep you. I'm going to warn you, it might hurt a bit at first, but once you get used to it you'll be fine." Sherlock nodded, his eyes wide and curious. John looked at him as he prepared his fingers and pushed one in.

Sherlock made a face. "This feels weird. I think I like what we were doing before better."

John smiled. "Just wait. There's always a spot, for practically everyone, that makes it feel really good." He gently pushed in a second finger and thrust them back in forth, making scissoring motions.

Sherlock winced in pain. "This does _not_ feel good," he grunted, gritting his teeth.

"Juuuust wait." John focused on finding Sherlock's prostate this time, prodding his fingers against different spots and letting his fingers explore. Suddenly, Sherlock let out a choked gasp. "Are you okay?" John said, looking up.

"There," Sherlock said. "That...  _that_ felt good."

"I was worried I'd never find it," John smiled, inserting a third finger and thrusting them against the same spot. Sherlock moaned, his hips involuntarily rolling forward. He began to feel a desperate desire for something _more_ , and he had a sudden image in his head of John  _pounding_ into him, both of them screaming in pleasure. "John," he said urgently, although it came out squeakier than he had intended.

"Feels good now, doesn't it?" John said, beaming pridefully as if he had just won an argument.

"John," Sherlock repeated, groaning softly. "I need you." The words surprised even himself. He was Sherlock Holmes, he didn't need _anyone_. Except John. He needed John. John balanced him out. Kept him sane. Loved him in a way no one else ever would. And god, he especially needed him now.

John looked into his eyes and nodded, pulling his fingers out and lubing up his member. "Okay. You're ready?"

Sherlock nodded slowly, and John grasped each of his thighs as he lined himself up and pushed inside. "Oh," John whispered. " _Oh_  god." It was even better than it was with a woman. Women were nice, but they were softer, looser, so much more delicate feeling. This was so much better. Sherlock's body surrounded him tightly like it had adjusted to fit him specifically, and just the sight of the man below him, the smell of sweat and arousal and whatever the fuck Sherlock had gotten into from their most recent case, was enough to drive him absolutely mad. He was brought out of his bliss by a sharp cry from Sherlock.

"John! John, it really hurts," he said, his voice an octave higher than usual.

"R-right," John said, trying very hard not to move.

"Just... just hang in there. I'll find that spot again and it'll be good. Okay?"

Sherlock nodded slowly. "Okay. Y-you can move."

John bit his lip, and thrust forward slowly, unable to prevent a shuddering moan from escaping his lips. It felt so damn good. But he wanted it to be good for Sherlock too. He tried to clear his head so he could focus on finding his prostate again. He shifted to the side a little and bumped forward.

"Fuck," Sherlock breathed. "Yes. John."

"Is that it?" John asked. Just one word, one word of confirmation and he could _move_.

"Yes," Sherlock said, more urgently this time. "John. More."

John didn't have to be told twice. Using Sherlock's thighs as leverage, he pulled back and thrust in again, back and forth, back and forth, over and over. He was moaning so loudly he was certain the flatmates next door could hear them, but he didn't care. He was practically pounding into Sherlock uncontrollably, each tiny movement sending overwhelming shocks of pleasure through him.

Sherlock, meanwhile, had never felt anything remotely like this in his life and it showed quite obviously. His back arched and his hips bucked up and he felt himself wrap his legs around John's waist and he couldn't even remember telling himself to do any of it. He also couldn't control the stream of sounds issuing from his throat at every thrust John made. Suddenly, he felt odd. Almost like he had to urinate...

"Oh, fuck I'm gonna cum!" John shrieked, his head falling limply to his chest as he felt his muscles tense up.

"You're what?" Sherlock said, and then John screamed and seemed to freeze mid-thrust, alarming Sherlock greatly, but it was contrasted by the warm feeling substance suddenly shooting up his body. And then it was happening to him too, his head thrown back and his back arching as he felt _something_. It was like an explosion, unexplainable pleasure coarsing through his entire body as he yelled. It seemed to last ages, but when it was over, he realized his eyes were closed. He opened them, panting harshly, to see some substance on John's chest above him. "Is... is that supposed to happen?" he said.

John stared back at him, and then his face broke into a smile, and then he was laughing and collapsing beside him on the bed. " _Yes_ , Sherlock." his laughter died down, the ghost of his smile still visible on his lips. "Jesus Christ, that was the best orgasm I've ever had."

"Is it always so... messy?" Sherlock said.

"Yeah, pretty much. It isn't always as good as it just was though," John grinned, looking over at him. "I'm exhausted."

"So am I," Sherlock said, beginning to get out of bed.

"Wait, where're you going?" John said.

"To my room. I'll let you sleep and I can go and sleep in my room," Sherlock said.

John rolled his eyes, smiling. "You idiot. Get back here, you're sleeping with me."


End file.
